The Wall
by Enthusiastic Fish
Summary: Oneshot written for the NFA Great Expectations challenge. When his dad can't make it for lunch, Tim wanders around the Mall and ends up at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. He gets some advice from a stranger.


**A/N:** This was written for the NFA Great Expectations challenge. It's fitting for how I feel about the end result. I went in with great expectations...but I'm not sure it really panned out how I wanted it to. Still, the story has been told and now I can move on to other things. :) Basically, it looks at how much Tim really does have in common with his father (and this is not Sam McGee...and we haven't yet met Tim's admiral father; so this may quickly become inaccurate). I hope you enjoy it.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own NCIS and I don't own any of the characters and I'm not making money off this story.

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**The Wall  
**by Enthusiastic Fish

_Every wall is a door.  
__Ralph Waldo Emerson_

Tim walked slowly across the Mall. He had been planning on meeting his dad for lunch while he was in town, but he had cancelled. Tim wasn't surprised, but now, he had time on his hands. He went from memorial to memorial without a definite goal in mind. He was a little frustrated. The lunch had been his dad's idea, one more attempt to get back on an even keel. Tim knew it would be awkward, but _he_ wanted to do this. Why couldn't his dad be the same? It was frustrating but Tim didn't have it in him to be really angry. The awkwardness was there...and he'd bet the sincerity was, too. It was just a problem with following through.

He found himself at the Vietnam Wall. He'd seen it quite a few times, but, for some reason, he was drawn to it. He walked over and looked at the black, polished stone. If the light hit it just right, all the names carved into it simply disappeared. Tim figured that was fitting in a way. The veterans of Vietnam had often been allowed to vanish, to fall through the cracks, to disappear as the country tried to forget about that conflict.

Tim had always hated the idea of a veteran being lost. It just felt wrong. It didn't matter that the conflict was ambiguous at best. These were men and women who had sacrificed a lot, sometimes, their sanity, because they'd been called upon to do so. That was important. They had come when their nation had called and not run away like some had done, even if they may have wanted to. It wasn't right that their sacrifice was then denigrated simply because the nation decided the conflict had been wrong in the first place.

He walked over to the wall and touched one of the names. It wasn't someone he knew. It was just a representative of how much had been lost. Someone who didn't deserve to be forgotten.

"Haven't seen you around here before."

Tim turned and saw an older man watching him. He was wearing simple clothes, jeans and jacket, but they looked clean and cared for.

"I've come a few times, but not for a while. You must come here a lot if you noticed."

The man smiled.

"I do. Every day."

"Why?" Tim asked.

"They're my brothers in arms."

"You served?" Tim asked.

"Yes."

There was a closed-off feeling to that one word. There were things about Vietnam that people didn't talk about. Only fellow sufferers could really understand, and Tim didn't want to pry. He just nodded and turned back to his contemplation of the wall, letting the man decide to leave.

He didn't. Instead, he walked up beside Tim and stared at the wall. Tim could see both their reflections in the wall.

"Why are _you_ here?" he asked.

"Well...I'm in the area because I was supposed to get with my dad and he cancelled. I wandered around and ended up here."

"Why this memorial? You know anyone?"

"Not really. I just...want to remember."

"Most of us want to forget."

"But you want to _be_ remembered, don't you?"

"Maybe. What makes it so important to you to remember? You're too young to have served even in the Gulf."

Tim thought about it, and the answer came pretty quickly. In fact, it was almost funny. The frustrating reason that had brought him here was the reason he'd ended up here instead of somewhere else.

"My dad," he said finally.

"Why?"

"Because..." Tim almost said that it was because his dad was an admiral. ...but that wasn't right. It had nothing to do with his rank...and everything to do with who his father was. "Because he taught me to respect the people who sacrificed. It wasn't anything he said, necessarily...although he talked about it at times. ...but we always respected veterans. I have a tradition of people serving in the military in my family, but I don't think it would have been any different if we hadn't been that way. Dad would never avoid giving someone the respect they deserve. It doesn't matter if it's convenient or not. The respect is deserved."

"You didn't serve yourself?"

"I'm in NCIS now, but no, I didn't serve. I've seen what can happen to the veterans who get left behind. The ones who fall through the cracks. I don't like that. It's wrong." He smiled slightly. "And my dad would never let me sit back and accept that it has to be that way."

So far, they really weren't looking at each other. They were both looking at the wall. Tim didn't know what the man was seeing, but he was seeing himself...and the echoes of his father that had been pointed out his whole life. He had never been able to escape being compared to his dad. They had similar builds, similar bearing. ...only Tim was a nerd and his father was an admiral.

"So...why did your dad cancel?" the man asked.

Somehow, it didn't feel like he was prying. Tim answered candidly.

"Too busy, I guess. ...more than likely, he didn't want to deal with the awkwardness."

"Of what?"

"I'm not military, and I was supposed to be. We've had some...bumps in the road because of that. We've been trying to fix it, but it's hard. Which is why I'm standing here at the Vietnam Memorial talking to you."

Tim saw the man's reflection smile.

"It bothers you, doesn't it."

"Yeah, a little."

"And yet, you're still doing what he wants you to do."

"What do you mean?"

"You said he taught you to respect veterans. You haven't given that up."

"I couldn't do that. It wouldn't be right."

"Sounds like you're quite a bit like your dad. It might be easier just to give up, but you're not."

Tim smiled a little at that.

"Guess not. People always said I was just like him. When I was younger, we used to talk a lot more. ...but then, it became obvious that I wasn't going to join the Navy and we argued. We argued more than we should have because the more he said yes, the more determined I was to say no...no matter what. Then, when I told him that I was joining NCIS, he said that I was wasting myself and that he couldn't remember the last time he'd been so disappointed."

"And?"

Tim smiled at the question. He didn't think he'd ever really talked about this to anyone before. It was funny that he was doing it here at the Vietnam Wall, with a man he'd never seen before and didn't know from Adam. Still...it seemed...right, somehow.

"And I said that if I was such a disappointment I'd be sure to stay away from him...so that he didn't have to see what his son was doing. I left and I rarely spoke to him after that."

"And you still feel that way?"

"No. A couple of years ago, we started patching things up, but you don't recover from seven years of almost no contact very quickly...especially when it's hard to get together even if you _aren't_ actively avoiding each other. I just wish he'd try a little harder is all."

"I see."

"Do you?" Tim asked.

"I wish I had your problem."

For the first time, Tim turned away from the monument and looked the man in the eye. He didn't need to ask the question. It was obvious.

"My dad disowned me when I joined up to fight in Vietnam. He said it wasn't our fight and that, by going, I would be nothing better than a murderer. He died before I got back. Heart attack. I never got the chance to be frustrated by failed efforts to patch things up. I don't know if he would have, but I'll _never_ know. I'll never know if he would have forgiven me, if he would have accepted the choice I made."

"I'm sorry."

"Forty years on, it's not something to apologize for."

"It still bothers you, doesn't it?" Tim asked, using the same words.

The man smiled.

"Yes, it does...but time tends to make those kinds of things easier to deal with."

"Not enough time for me yet."

"Seven years? Not even close, but you don't have to. You've got a chance, you know."

"I know. It's a...a hard thing, getting back to where we were...if it's even possible."

"Maybe you need something that's not what it was. Maybe you need a different relationship."

"Maybe you're right."

Tim looked back at the Wall.

"My dad has been in the Navy all my life, and it's all I've ever known...but I don't really know my dad as an adult. I'm still just a kid."

"Don't look much like one to me."

"Thanks."

Tim's phone rang. He pulled it out and looked at the display. He smiled and looked at the man again.

"It's my dad."

"Good luck."

"Thanks."

Tim answered.

"Hey, dad."

"_My meeting got out sooner than I expected, Tim. Do you have any time now?"_

"Yeah. I think so."

"_Where do you want to meet?"_

"How close are you to the Mall?"

"_Just a couple of blocks away."_

"I'm at the Vietnam Memorial."

"_I'll meet you there."_

"Okay. Bye."

Tim hung up and then looked around. The man was gone. Tim smiled a little. He hadn't even known the guy's name, but he'd talked to him quite a bit.

He turned back to the wall and looked at his reflection. A few minutes later, another man came up behind him. He knew this man.

"Hi, Dad," he said.

"I haven't been here in years."

"I like it."

"So do I."

Tim could see why people said he looked like his dad. They did look a lot alike.

"Tim?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For choosing a meeting over you."

Tim shook his head.

"It's not the first time, you know."

"I know."

Awkward silence.

"Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"What do you see when you look at the memorial?"

"What do you mean?"

"What do you see?"

His father was quiet for a moment.

"People who should never be forgotten," he said finally.

Tim smiled. That sounded familiar. He turned around.

"I'm ready for lunch," he said. "How about you?"

"I'm ready."

They started to walk away from the memorial. Side by side but still feeling awkward. Tim suddenly had a question and he let it out before he could decide if it was a good idea.

"Do you know anyone...on the Wall?" he asked.

His dad looked at him with some surprise...and then, he looked over at the Wall. He paused...and then, walked over, searched for a few seconds and pointed.

"This one," he said. "He was a couple of years older than I am. We were neighbors growing up, and I idolized him. He joined up as soon as the call went out. ...and he died a few months later. It was a shock. He'd always seemed invincible, but...he wasn't, just like every other person on this wall."

"Did you know a lot of people?"

"A few. Some on the Wall. Some not."

"Did you ever question what you were going to do with all that happening?"

They started walking away from the Wall again.

"No. No, my life was charted long before that and I wouldn't have changed it, no matter what."

As they headed for someplace to eat, they continued to talk, the awkwardness fading in the face of something they could talk about.

They found a little café and sat down together, eating and talking. There were a few awkward pauses, but, overall, it wasn't too bad. As they got up to leave, they were stopped.

"Excuse me, sir. You're in the Navy?"

They stopped and saw a young woman with a two young boys.

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'd just like to say thank you, and my sons would, too."

Tim watched as his dad bent over and shook the little boys' hands.

"You must be so proud of your father," the woman said. "...and all the sacrifices you all make to keep us safe. Thank you." She held out her hand and Tim shook it without saying much.

She thanked them both and then took her boys and kept walking.

"Pretty simple for other people, isn't it."

Tim nodded in agreement.

"They don't know what it's like."

"But she's right. It was a sacrifice."

They walked until they had to part ways. Tim stopped.

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"Am I still a disappointment to you?"

Tim watched as his dad's expression became confused, surprised and then ashamed. He shook his head.

"No. You never were. I'm sorry I ever said that."

"Thanks."

Another awkward pause. Then, Tim put out his hand.

"When will you be back here?"

"Probably not for a while."

Tim was surprised to be pulled in to a quick (albeit awkward) hug.

"It was nice seeing you...son."

"Thanks, Dad."

They parted ways. Tim walked back to the Mall and then to the Wall. That awkwardness. He figured that he must have got that from his father. Neither of them were particularly good at being open with their feelings.

He'd spent the last decade thinking that he was very different from his father, but he was starting to see something else.

They were really a lot alike, and it would be worth seeing how much they still had in common.

FINIS!


End file.
